Written for Esther’s “Can You Tell A Story In” – #306
in exactly 52 words using these five prompt words:
‘seal’, ‘growl’, ‘allergic’, ‘haphazard’, and ‘polka’, and
for Gerry’s & Sue’s “Weekly Prompts – The One Day
Prompt” – #17. Here’s my flash in exactly 52 words.
Tag: Dreams
Cloud Nine
Written for Cinquain Poetry Prompt #18.
Our inspiration word is “think”. I have
written a Mirror Cinquain, a 10-line,
single stanza poem with a syllable pattern
of 2 – 4 – 6 – 8 – 2 – 2 – 8 – 6 – 4 – 2.
Faded Memories
Written for Esther’s Writing Prompts #83
incorporating the word “promises”.
Here’s where the prompt led me.
Revelation
Written for Muse on Monday where David asks us
to write a story about our MC having an epiphany
at the beginning. Also written for Fandango’s Story
Starter #217 where the opening sentence is provided.
This is where the prompts and my imagination took me.
Lullaby
Written for OMIMM Weekly Writing Prompt #70
and the photo prompt shown below.
Here’s where the image took me.
Smiling Girls & Rosy Boys
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing
Prompt #426 using the word ‘plethora’;
in exactly 67 words, this is my take.
Once A Child
Happy 14th Poet Pub Anniversary!
Written for dVerse Poets Quadrille
Monday – #227 where our inspiration
word is “turn”. Here is my quadrille.
Time Unfolds
Written for Sadje’s What Do You See #291
and Sue & Gerry’s Weekly Prompts –
The One Day Prompt (13) This is my response.
Fly Away: An Ovi
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #99.
This week’s inspiration word is
“flight”. Keeping with the year’s
theme of positivity, this is my Ovi.
In The Wind: An Ovi
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #95.
This week’s inspiration word is
“understand”. Keeping with the year’s
theme of positivity, this is my Ovi.
On The Rocks – Part 6: Being Irrational
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where
we are urged to get creative in 250 words or less.
The photo below is our inspiration; this is my story.
Passage Of Time ~ An Ovi
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #93.
This week’s inspiration word is
“rise”. Keeping with the year’s
theme of positivity, this is my Ovi.
To Fly
Written for Eugi’s Moonwashed Weekly Prompt,
I have chosen her prompt ‘reach for infinity’.
Indigo Mesh: A Dectina Refrain
Written today for Eugi’s Moonwashed Weekly Prompt
where our inspiration word is ‘tangle’. This is my Dectina.
When Push Comes To Shove: The Continuing Story of Harvey and Fiona
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are asked
to get creative in 250 words or less using the photo
below as inspiration. This is my 4th story about Harvey
and Fiona; for my previous stories, please click here.
Early each morning on her way to work, Fiona passed the busy bakery in the heart of town. She loved the shamrock-green storefront and the delicious aroma of baked goods, and imagined herself working there.
Maneuvering the heavy pressing machines at her job took its toll on Fiona; she was exhausted and complained of backaches. Harvey barked that she better toughen up because no way was she quitting that job. And for the first time, he slapped her.
On Sunday morning Fiona asked Harvey to bring down the mixing bowl from the top shelf in the kitchen so she could make an apple pie. Grousing, but inwardly delighting at the prospect of dessert, Harvey took a long swig of his beer and got the stepladder out of the closet. As he started to climb, Fiona managed to hoist a five pound sack of apples, grimacing at the awful pain in her back, and bashed Harvey as hard as she could on the back of his head. He fell backwards onto the kitchen floor, vacant eyes staring at the ceiling. He would never slap her again.
Fiona tore open the sack of apples, dumped them into the colander on the counter and shoved the empty sack into the trash. She looked at Harvey’s dead body; blood had pooled under his head and she felt sick to her stomach. Fiona vomited in the sink, then washed her face and hands; she lifted the receiver of the wall phone and called the police.
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is “Push Comes To Shove” by Van Halen.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
When I Grow Up
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
asked to get creative in 250 words or less using
the photo below as inspiration. Here is my story.
“Hm, what’s this?” I asked myself, cycling up to an abandoned car … a bit of excitement in my otherwise dull existence.
It struck me as odd that the car appeared to have been deliberately driven to the side of the road, the engine turned off while, in sharp contrast, the door had been hastily left open. The key was in the ignition, the constant reminder of “ding-ding-ding-ding” shattering the stillness.
Instinctively, I yanked out the key, pocketing it. I exhaled, savoring the calmness. Looking around, there wasn’t a living thing in sight, but two trash bins implied the presence of civilization.
I stood at the silent intersection, the roads reaching out to the horizon. The only change in landscape was a mound strewn with tree cuttings. I decided to scope out the area to see what was about, but my exploration yielded nothing. The car and I stood idle.
Shrugging my shoulders, I began walking back to my bicycle when an indistinct sound penetrated the air – a muffled voice coming from the mound.
With renewed vigor, I ran up the rise, stopping abruptly at the sight below – a traveling circus being dismantled. It was then I noticed a silver-haired man giddily leaping toward the carny folk, waving and shouting “wait for me!”
Before I knew what was happening, I was bounding after the man, yelling for him to “take me along, too!” He motioned for me to “c’mon!”
At some point the car key fell out of my pocket, no longer needed.
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is “Goodbye Cruel World” by James Darren
And for a bit of culture …. from the musical “Stop the World – I Want to Get Off”, this is the incomparable Anthony Newley with “What Kind of Fool Am I?”
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Nancy, Enchanted
Written for Sadje’s What Do You See #240
Come in, little one. You’ve nothing to fear from me. Don’t be shy now. Come away from the door where you are peeking and step inside. This is my enchanted place, my special magic space.
That’s it, child, one step at a time. Look around to your heart’s content. There’s nothing bad here. But I must caution you not to touch anything. The time will come for that and you must be patient.
Ah, I see you’ve noticed my book. It’s lovely, isn’t it? I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen one quite like it, have you? You have many questions, little one. They’re in you eyes, in the slight tilt of your head and the almost imperceptible upturn of your lips. It’s pleasing, is it not, this little book of mine?
It’s magic, you know. But then again, in the right hands, all books are magic. Yes it’s true. You hold the key, child. Not in your pocket or inside your shoe but in your mind and in your heart.
Come closer, child. Read from the book, listen to what it tells you. Enchanting, isn’t it? No need to touch, my dear. The pages will turn themselves.
I know what you’re thinking. Where can you get such a wondrous book? Am I right? I knew it! They’re all around you, child! Everywhere! But I have something special to share with you. Come close to hear my secret. Let me whisper in your ear.
My dear, not only can you read these beguiling pages. You can write them! Imagine the places you will visit, child.
There’s nothing to fear, little one. Simply step inside the blue bubble and all will become clear to you. That’s it, child. Step inside the magic land of books and dreams and amazing ideas. It’s a captivating place. Enchanting, isn’t it?
NAR©2024
#WDYS
Dedicated to my 7th grade teacher, Mrs. Romana Paschal, who encouraged me to write and whispered in my ear to reach for the all the dreams, little and big.
This is “Dream Weaver” by Gary Wright
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
AMAGANSETT BEACH
This piece was originally written in October, 2020.
It was recently revamped to complement a flash
I wrote three days ago called ‘Force Majeure’.
This story is based on true events
and the people are my family members.
The names of the characters have been changed ….
all except Susie. Her name remains unchanged.
🛸
Known for their dry wit and clever sense of humor, twins Ben and Jack couldn’t get anyone to believe they saw a UFO on the beach. No matter how hard they tried, everyone just laughed it off as a prank. The teenaged siblings, younger sister Jenny and their parents lived in a cottage one-half mile from the beach in Amagansett. Cousin Susie and her parents lived next door and the four teenagers were always together. It was a Saturday night and their parents were hosting the weekly bridge game. Everyone was slightly inebriated and laughingly dismissed the twin’s tall tale of UFOs.
It all began about two hours earlier. The foursome were on the beach listening to the radio, shooting the breeze and smoking cigarettes they snuck out of the kitchen cabinet. The sky that night was pitch-black, devoid of any stars or even a sliver of the moon. Their flashlights gleamed like little beacons as they sat in a tight circle on the sand.
“Twist and Shout” came on the radio and the girls jumped up to dance, trying to get the boys to join in. The twins just laughed and laid back on the sand, their arms folded under their heads. Looking up at the sky, Ben noticed an unusual light far off in the distance and pointed it out to the others. Holding their flashlights close to their faces, they started making up stories about the light being a UFO; the amber glow made their features look like they were extraterrestrials.
The teens decided the far away object in the sky was just a plane but there was something unusual about it. This ‘thing’ didn’t move in a forward direction as an airplane would; instead it gradually descended toward the water as it shifted slightly from left to right slowly approaching the shore. The closer the amorphous glow came to the beach the more it took on the appearance of a giant jellyfish.
The dim lights of the mysterious craft started getting brighter until they were so intense the four teens had to shield their eyes. The curious object began vibrating slightly; as the cousins peeked through their fingers, the vibrations increased and the ship started emitting shrill sounds. Covering their ears, they sought shelter behind an overturned rowboat. Realizing Susie was not with them, Jack looked back and saw her standing on the shore, arms outstretched and staring directly at the ever-increasing light.
The boys called out her name and yelled for her to come to them but their voices couldn’t be heard above the piercing noises of the missile. Susie stood in a trance, unable or unwilling to move as a shimmering halo surrounded her entire body. The strange craft hovered over her as long-reaching prongs crackled and sparked like electric tentacles. After about 30 seconds, the noises abruptly stopped and the lights dimmed; the missile spun around and shot off like a rocket in the direction from which it came. In an instant it was gone, swallowed up by the blackness of the night.
Susie fell to her knees, shaken and dazed but otherwise seemingly unharmed. The boys raced to their cousin, grabbed her arms and ran back to their hiding place. When Susie felt like she was able to walk, they made their way home; no one spoke a single word.
For a couple of days after the incident, the teens try to tell their parents what had happened. No one took their stories seriously and they eventually stopped talking about it. When a small article about strange sightings in the sky was written up in the newspaper, it was dismissed as a practical joke. As time passed, that night on the beach was never mentioned again.
Life went on as usual for the teens except for Susie. About six years after the incident on Amagansett Beach, Susie became ill with debilitating headaches and terrible pains in her stomach. After a series of tests, doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her yet she continued to suffer. One night while Ben, Jack and Jenny were visiting Susie, the conversation turned to that night on the beach. It was the first time in six years that the cousins spoke about that bizarre event.
Ben told the others of a strange recurring dream that had been haunting him. The room became silent as he quietly described legions of small humanoid creatures with conical heads working in some sort of laboratory. A few of the little men led Ben into a room; in the middle of the room was a large round cushion. Ben was stripped of his clothes, massaged with lotions and given a white robe to wear. He was handed a large vial of liquid and instructed to drink it, then he was told to lie down on the cushion. The last thing he remembered was one someone saying “Let the process begin”.
The silence in the room was broken when Jack declared in a disbelieving voice “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s not possible! I’ve been having the exact same dream!” In a trembling voice Jenny tearfully described her dream of being artificially impregnated and giving birth to numerous ‘alien’ babies. Susie gasped and turned ashen. It was then that she realized she had been having the same dream as Jenny. This was too incredible! The four cousins were shaken to the core by this revelation and had no idea what to make of it. One thing was for certain: they were convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that whatever occurred that night on the beach was causing them to have these dreams.
Susie was overwhelmed by all the talk about the dreams and began to cry. Suddenly she clutched her abdomen and started moaning loudly in extreme pain, begging to be taken to the hospital. Her cousins immediately drove her to the emergency room. The doctors ordered X-rays, an ultrasound and CT scan for Susie; all the tests came back normal and she was sent home. In a voice no stronger than a whisper Susie told her cousins that even though the doctors could find nothing wrong with her, she knew she was very sick. Susie was in a very bad place physically, mentally and emotionally and no one knew what to do to help her. She just wanted to be left alone and to never talk about that horrible night again.
Over the next few months, Susie’s health worsened. At the age of 21, her periods stopped and she went to see her gynecologist; he determined that Susie had at least one miscarriage. She was aghast at what the doctor said and insisted that was impossible because she had not had sex in more than four years. The gynecologist assumed Susie was in a state of denial and referred her to a psychologist but she refused to go. Once again Susie was admitted to the hospital for a dilation and curettage to clear her uterine lining, a common procedure after a miscarriage. Two nights later she died in her sleep at home; an autopsy revealed no known cause of death, no medical reason why she should have died. Susie was just three weeks shy of her 22nd birthday.
Ben, Jack and Jenny were devastated by their cousin’s death; they made a pact that they would never again discuss their dreams or anything about that night on the beach. Eventually things returned to normal and the dreams stopped. The siblings all got married, settled down and raised families and that terrifying night years ago was all but forgotten.
Now here they were, just one month after Ben and Jack’s 75th birthday and reports were surfacing of luminous globes suspended over the waters of Amagansett Beach. Susie’s tragic death and sixty years filled with unanswered questions came rushing back. Despite all the unexplained happenings that Ben, Jack and Jenny experienced, word of these new sightings now left them with an inexplicable compulsion to go back to where it all began.
Is it their need to learn the truth or are they being summoned? Ben, in his typical rational and logical way made the final decision: in memory of Susie and for their own peace of mind they would never return to Amagansett Beach.
In memory of Susie M. (1949-1970)
NAR © 2023
This is the song that was playing on the radio that night on Amagansett Beach – the Beatles singing “Twist and Shout”.
NIGHT TERRORS
My son cried out for me again. It had become a nightly ritual.
At first I was amused by his attempts to stall going to sleep. Sometimes he’d ask for a glass of water or another bedtime story. His latest ruse was “monsters”. I’d made a big deal of looking under the bed, inside the closet, behind the rocking horse in the corner. Satisfied nothing was hiding in his room, he would drift off to sleep.
Now the routine had turned into a habit and I found myself becoming exasperated. The last couple of nights, my son was clearly upset by something he claimed to have seen. He cried real tears, asking me to keep the lights on. We compromised and began using a nightlight.
Still, something was scaring my boy and my frustration turned into concern. He was now saying a wicked witch came to him every night. There was no denying my little guy was truly scared.
I thought about every tv show or movie that could have set this off, any posters or books in his room. Nothing came to mind and I rubbed my temples as another headache began to worm its way in.
My son screamed for me and I ran to his room. The witch was back and he cried for me to stay with him. I crawled onto his bed and laid down, my arms around him and my head on his pillow. I closed my eyes as he described the bony and twisted fingers of a witch’s hand reaching through his bedroom window. With ragged breaths my boy clung to me, begging me to keep the witch away.
I held him tightly and kissed his head, assuring him that witches weren’t real and he was safe. Slowly his breathing calmed and I opened my eyes to see if he was asleep. With my head still on his pillow, I had the same view of my son’s room as he did. For the first time I saw his world through his 4-year-old eyes.
And there in the darkness tap-tap-tapping on his window was a sight that made me gasp … the gnarled and skinny branches of the scraggly juniper bush outside my son’s room looked very much like an evil witch’s hand grasping at little boys! How could I have missed it and the fearsome shadows it cast across the walls and onto the ceiling? I felt an enormous amount of guilt for not seeing what he saw, for thinking it was his only imagination, for losing my patience with a frightened little boy.
We sat up on his bed and I explained to my son that what he saw was not a witch but only branches and I could understand why it scared him. I asked my boy if he remembered seeing the juniper bush during the day while outside playing. He quickly nodded “Yes”. I asked him if the bush scared him when he saw it during the day; he giggled and said “No!”
I turned on all the lights in his room and asked if it would be ok if I opened the window. My son didn’t answer right away; he stared at his hands in his lap and nervously fussed with his pajamas, then looked up at me with tears in his eyes. I wanted to run to him and scoop him up in my arms but I forced myself not to move. I’m sure it took every ounce of courage for him to quietly answer “Ok, Mommy”.
I held out my hand and he slowly walked to me, that look of ‘dead man walking’ on his face. But he was a brave boy that night and together we opened the window. I reached out and touched the branches of the juniper. I shook the branches; there wasn’t a witch anywhere. My son asked if he could shake the branches, too, and I told him he could. When I asked if we should have Daddy cut down the bush in the morning, my son was very thoughtful for a minute. Then he shook his head saying “No, the bush didn’t mean to be scary”. He threw his arms around my neck and he climbed back into bed.
That night the fears were conquered, the night terrors vanquished. My little son is now a grown man with little sons of his own and it’s his turn to dispel their fears. Sometimes I wonder if he has any memory of those frightening nights from forty years ago.
Something tells me he doesn’t remember a thing.
NAR © 2023
Please join me today
In The Groove.
It’ll be cool. 😎
https://rhythmsection.blog/
WISHFUL THINKING
Saying “Hello” is so much sweeter than saying “Goodbye”.
Hello to a new year, new beginnings, new friends and new memories to be made.
Goodbye to 2022; it was not a stellar year for many of us.
Change was in the forefront last year; changing our habits, our attitudes, our priorities is not easy but it is often good and usually necessary. I chose to make some difficult changes; I was indecisive and flip-flopped many times but ultimately got my act together and made the necessary adjustments in my life. I cut ties with a few people which, while being profoundly difficult, proved to be for the best. I will miss those people but I will not allow them to influence my life.
There were losses, especially one that will forever leave a void. That was the passing of a dear old friend, a tremendous shock and extreme sadness for everyone who knew him. Rest easy, Jean-Michel; there is no doubt in my mind that you are singing with the choir of angels.
Health issues were a concern for us again this year. Arthritis has found a nice home for itself in most of my joints; it’s not fun watching yourself slowing down and being unable to do the things that once came so easily. Through our communication, I discovered that many of you are enduring the same pain; it was eye-opening and humbling to hear of the great discomfort you’re experiencing. I’m doing whatever it takes to keep myself from turning into the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. If only WD40 worked on people! I have a fabulous physical therapist who has brought me out of the depths of pain before and is doing so again. Thank God for you and your magic hands, Dr. Wonda!
Good times and serendipitous events occurred as well during 2022. I made a lot of new friends on WordPress, had my work published several times and will be joining forces on an exciting project with one of my new friends who is now a very good friend. I’ve never had a writing ‘partner’ before so this new side venture should be interesting and fun. This is not in place of my website; I won’t stop writing stories and will never abandon my baby, The Elephant’s Trunk!
Over the years I have been blessed more times than I can count so there’s no point dwelling on the negatives and what-ifs. I thank God for my amazing Bill, our beautiful family and incredible in-laws. Truly dear friends are a rare commodity; I’m so very thankful for the few everlasting bonds of friendship that have been formed over the years. We came perilously close to losing a family member as recently as ten days ago. With a multitude of prayers and God guiding the doctor’s hands, she is now on the road to recovery. Marie, we love you and are so grateful to have you back with us. And soon you will get to see Colette again!
And now for you, my dear WordPress friends. Sincere thanks for reading my stories, my labors of love. I appreciate you, all your “likes” and comments, but most of all I delight in our camaraderie. We are a family of writers, poets, artists, cooks, musicians, comedians, deep thinkers and visionaries, all bringing joy and entertainment to others while living our own dreams, whether grand or modest. Thank you for allowing me into your world.
I wish you all a happy, safe, healthy, blessed and fulfilling year ahead. Take good care and be well always. And may all your wishes and dreams come true!
Happy New Year!
NAR © 2023
The Elephant's Trunk 